


Can't handle the truth?!

by LukeWords



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Cancer, Panic Attacks, Pre-Relationship, References to Addiction, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29981904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LukeWords/pseuds/LukeWords
Summary: ‘Do you see fear and grief?’TK had made a tough call on himself to prove his father wrong, make him proud and finally give back in a time of desperate need.If he was honest however, he was full of fear and grief, panic even - and desperate times called for desperate solutions. But he couldn't disappoint his dad, not again, not now!(Set right after S1E4 "Act of God", which ends with Owen finally talking about his cancer diagnosis with TK).[March 18, 2021: Edited for language corrections.]
Relationships: Carlos Reyes & TK Strand, Owen Strand & TK Strand
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I shouldn't have written this but instead worked on my other projects, but after Season 1 Episode 4 of Lone Star aired in Germany yesterday, this plot hit me.  
> I wasn't sure in the beginning if I could stand watching the series at all because I've lived through a cancer story in my family as well that didn't end well at all, but it got me fast just as this story idea hit me spontaneously.  
> Forgive me, friends. :D  
>  _P.S. (March 18, 2021): Sorry for the mistakes - some very bad ones - that survived my first proofreading. You overlook them so easily in your own text, especially close to finishing writing it. I just revisited it and hope I fixed it all._

He had promised he was alright. Yet after learning that his own father had a life-threatening disease, who could be fine?  
He had enough of medical knowledge to know that lung cancer in any form was a tough call for anyone, even if his old man was in good shape and had told him about the doctors being ‘positive‘, even optimistic, about treatment.

Added to that, his dad had not shared the knowledge with him for weeks, had acted like he was perfectly normal, hidden all his difficulties and brushed off any suspicion, even using words like ‘over-anxious’ or distracting with questions about how his therapy was going.  
It was not that he didn’t trust his dad about how he had always wanted to tell him, yet he was disappointed that the most important person in his life, his support system, had felt the need to hide. And he couldn’t say he didn’t understand, in fact he did understand all too well, would’ve probably done the same.  
  


The word still echoed in his head. Words of anger, disappointment, maybe even self-hate.  
 _‘Admit it, you didn’t think I could handle it!’  
‘You thought that fragile T_ _K would spin-out and OD again!’_

In fact, he was fragile now, his hands and legs trembling still as they had started the minute he had known that his dad was in bed, doors closed and no risk of getting caught this weak, so pathetic, so helpless like a small child.

Words of accusation, of hurt:  
 _‘Then why would you lie to me every single minute of every single day?’_  
  


Words of promise, encouragement, fighting spirit, like his dad had always given him after another bad day or night, hour or week, no matter what:  
 _‘Do you see fear and grief?’_  
Yet he feared to lose his dad. Yet he grieved, even coursed destiny. He had been too young as the towers collapsed and his mother had try to shield him from it, but it didn’t work: She herself had been too shocked, too panicked, too out of mind to keep it together at that day. Pictures were burnt into his head, no longer really haunting him as they had for years, but still. And he could remember the words of the President (an actual President!) reassuring the nation just as his dad had done in later years, after much smaller, more personal drama. Just as he had done today for his dad. At that moment however, there had been the phrase of ‘all that is good and just in our world’ that would be defended. Where was justice in the world? How was it fair that a firefighter who risked his life for others every day, whose calling it was to help others, and who like not many others lived by this calling without compromise, had to suffer from this? It wasn’t earned or deserved and calling it bad luck was far too trivial.  
Words aimed at proving something, of deflecting from his own bad feelings and thoughts:  
 _‘You’re gonna kick the crap out of this cancer.’_  
He hoped that, prayed for it, but he was far from sure that it was true. He couldn’t lose his dad, not yet, not soon, not for long decades to come. In fact, not ever!  
  


And a heartfelt promise, now more than ever:  
 _‘From now on, I’ve got your back, Dad!’_  
He had said it many times on the job, but couldn’t remember a time when he said it not to his Captain but to his dad.  
In their private life, it had always been his father who supported him in dark times, never the other way round. He was the weak son who needed protection, many times even against himself.  
Yet he had never felt the meaning of those words as strong as he said them at this evening.  
  


Yet, he had never felt as much a failure as he did now. He knew he couldn’t handle it, couldn’t live up to the promise he just made. Maybe he could keep up a few days, weeks at best, but then his fear would roll over him, old habits would return. He would once more disappoint the best father he could imagine, and he would add even more worries and problems to his life and fight.  
  


Would it be easier just to let go, give up, call it quits?  
He knew that his dad wouldn’t survive that either and even as his dad was more important to him than himself now, he had never wanted to die, no matter how close he came to kill himself in a crazy rescue attempt or with an opioid overdose. He didn’t want that now, it wasn’t even a real thought, just a scary scrap of thought, best labeled as ‘crap’.  
Normally, with the thoughts that crossed his mind at this point, he would talk to his dad. Dad would hug him tight, get them seated on the couch, place his arm around his shoulders and talk him through all of it, keep him checked until he could talk to his therapist. But his dad had gone to sleep almost an hour ago, as long as he was sitting in their shared living room — not with his dad, but all alone — and racking his mind, feeling not far from going nuts. He couldn’t wake him after such a shift and with his body having to digest the chemo, Owen needed the sleep!  
  


Thinking of opioids, there was this idea: Maybe he could handle it, could live up to the promise if he got himself calmed down. It had worked fine in the past, kept him functioning — until it didn’t. And he didn’t want to repeat the mistake that had led them to Austin after being dumped by Alex. He needed to be more careful this time. In fact, he needed to stop thinking about how to get that stuff altogether not now, but right back when he’d started.  
He should call his therapist, but it was in the middle of the night. The Protocol suggested for the patient to be hospitalized in these cases. His therapist would maybe deviate from protocol facing Owen Strand, a medically trained and certified firefighter who knew that no environment — other than a drug hub maybe — was worse for his son under those circumstances than the hospital, and who would fight against hospitalization with all he had. That was not an option either today.  
He could call Judd, the only guy from the firehouse who — in his dad’s words — had figured out the cancer issue before the captain’s own son and helped Owen to hide for a bit longer. But Judd didn’t know about his story in New York — at least he hoped that his dad was right about that — and he wasn’t sure if he could trust that guy after he had known, even as Owen had talked about the pressure he got from the only Texas boy in their team to tell his own son. Then it was in the middle of the night, and they knew that Judd had bad nights very often, still plagued by his own trauma.  
So he couldn’t call Judd. And if he couldn’t call Judd, that would exclude everyone else on his team if he wanted to avoid his coming out moment to them and revealing their captains cancer diagnosis at the same time.

He pulled his phone out and stared at it for a while, then proceeding to order a ride, what wasn’t easy with his trembling hands. But he needed to get out of here for a while, clear his mind and make a few decisions on how to move on. Yet it was probably a bad idea to get out on his own as much as he liked the idea of some fresh air – how should he know where he ended up with his current state of mind?  
Austin wasn’t New York City and compared to Big Apple, the city that never sleeps, the supply of cheap drivers was smaller, not even counting the recent tornado. Yet he was able to choose from some reasonable offers. Choosing offers was a strange thing for him to consider as he was quite used to just get the free car closest to his current position, but here in Austin, the lower number of drivers resulted in having to wait longer than he was used to – making a good choice could however minimize that waiting period.  
He wondered if the young drivers — especially the one that even offered a ‘high ride for the lowest possible costs!’ in his profile — were able (or even eager) to make extra money by making some ‘special offers’ once he got into the car.

It had been an easy choice in the end, even the time he had to wait passed fast. It had been hard however to suppress the trembling in order to leave a short note on the kitchen table.  
  


The handwritten note read:  
‘Dad,  
don’t worry about me and don’t be angry that I left at night, I’m fine. Just needed to get my head straight again after all. Should be back before you wake up — if not, I’ll be back soon. I promise, I won’t do something dumb. Reach out if you needed to check.  
Love you, TK’  
It looked good enough to not be suspicious. He had succeeded in stopping the trembling while writing, taking that as a sign that the need of being there for his dad now would help him through this time — but knowing it wasn’t enough for more than moments.  
He’d used so much energy to keep it together during the long conversation they had had, and he needed to expand his battery for the weeks and months to come. He was going to rest when he had not only finished the planning of the funeral, but attended it until the very end — which was a scary, dumb thought yet again and only more prove he needed to get his head cleared.  
He didn’t however notice the few drops of tears that he left on the paper and which fortunately did not blur the writing before he left the house, overcautious not to make a single too loud noises.

He opened the door of the car, hurried to get into it and closed it as quietly as possible before the driver could even get out of it. He had ordered it a few houses apart from theirs but was still worried to wake his dad.  
“Sure that’s what you need, honey? You look terrible!”, he heard the voice from the driver’s seat almost like from another world.  
“Actually, I…”, he started to answer but realized the need to have to clear his throat first.


	2. Chapter 2

“Actually, I…”, he started to answer but realized the need to have to clear his throat first.  
Then he ordered the driver to change the destination and didn’t say a word for the rest of the drive, besides changing minds short distance away from the location he wanted to visit and asking to stop a short walk from it.  
He got what he wanted, thanked the driver and decided quickly not to ask her to wait. If this went wrong, he would find another way to spent the night.  
The whole scene, all his actions, seemed so pathetic as he thought about them, walking slowly down the street.  
  


Yet again, he was fragile TK close to ruin everything. Ruin the fresh start his dad had provided for him relocating to Austin.  
Probably ruined his dad’s chances for the best medical care available as New York City had the Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center — the best specialized hospital in the world — and yet his dad moved away from it to keep his beloved son on the job they both loved.  
Ruined his self-set goal to finally get independent and manage his life on his own, without placing way too many burdens on those around him.  
Ruined his sacred oath to himself not to make the same mistakes again.  
Standing at arms length from the door, he reminded himself that to this point, he hadn’t chosen a path he couldn’t walk back on. Once more he ran it through in his mind, but before he could finish that process, his arm had developed some form of autonomy and knocked on the door forcefully. What else could you do in the middle of the night to get a response?

For what felt like an eternity to him, nothing happened. He forced his hand to stop the knocking and lowered it again, physically observing but not yet noticing that he was still trembling.  
There he stood, in the middle of the night, starved for sleep after a hell of a day but knowing he wouldn’t get to close his eyes that night.  
Tears running down all over his face. Quiet tears, tears he as well didn’t notice. In fact, he didn’t feel anything besides numb at this point, numb and indescribably desperate.  
All alone.

“TK, what the hell are you doing here? I thought we had agreed on…”, a sleepy voice finally made its way into his empty brain.  
“Dios mio!”, that didn’t sound sleepy anymore, as he noticed slowly, not quiet sure where he actually was and who was talking — except, he was sure again all of a sudden, feeling incredibly dumb again and making two steps backwards, on weak legs.  
His instinct to leave however, met forceful resistance, as he got grabbed at his arm and pulled back to the door: “Mierda, TK, what did you take, how much and when? I need to call for help, you are trembling already!”  
His strength returned as those accusations — they weren’t really, more something like blank panic — came through to him, and he tried to get himself out of the grip, but failed. Never mess with somebody in his area of expertise!  
“Ok, Ok, I won’t run and instead politely ask if I may come in if you trust me that I’m sober.”, he had intended that to be a quick-witted response to the instincts of a cop, but even in his ears, it sounded weak and his voice shockingly broken.  
“Don’t lie to me, man, you almost died the last time already!”, came the sharp response that hit him again. It hurt almost as much as it had hurt realizing nearly the same pain and panic he had seen in his dad’s eyes back in New York on that dark day.  
“I’m not lying, Carlos!”, he insisted, “I had two options on my mind when I left home: Get some stuff to get me back on track or get into another bar fight.”, he paused, realizing once more how dumb those choices sound, how dumb he was even considering it, “That lovely lady I ordered for a ride changed my mind. She looked like she could be your abuela, Carlos!”

The next few minutes passed by without TK being able to remember anything clear about them later. He didn’t collapse or lose his conscious apparently, but he couldn’t remember how he ended up sitting on that couch, Carlos kneeling in front of him in just a t-shirt and boxers, one hand placed upon his knee, the other stabilizing a glass of water in his hand after he ad apparently spilled some of its content over his own clothes:  
“Wo-ho, TK, you have to try to calm down a little for me, alright?”, it sounded so incredibly soft, so caring, so reassuring. He felt safe. But he couldn’t really stop the trembling anymore as he had succeeded until he had arrived at the door.  
“Hold me, Carlos!”, he didn’t even think about that, it just escaped his mouth in that barely functioning voice, “Hold me, please!”  
That was all he was able to say before tears clouded everything in his mind for a while — everything besides the feeling that Carlos, a hookup he in fact barely knew at this point and whom he had ruined not only one great date but of whom he had also demanded to go slow with their future relationship to then just show up in the middle of a night unannounced, joined him on the couch and did in fact hold him — without hesitation.  
It was all he could feel for a while — and yes, he felt something again, not just numbness! — but also all he needed to regain some control.

At some point, Carlos broke the silence in a soft voice: “TK, who did this to you?”  
He didn’t understand the question at first, staring at the officer with a puzzled face apparently, as the question got more direct: “TK, who raped you?”  
An actual laugh escaped his mouth over that question, followed by a “What the hell, Reyes!” that was not quiet as thick as Judd would have put it. It lightened his mood until he looked into Carlos face finally: That hadn’t been a terrible joke, Carlos really thought….  
“Wait a minute, Carlos.”, apparently he had been able to get some water down his throat as his voice didn’t sound as far away and cracking as it did before, “First I got high, then I got raped, really?”  
He wouldn’t be able to explain that sudden — and short-lived — change in his mood later on, but in this moment, he apparently found the idea of a sexual assault hilarious.  
“Well, TK…”, Carlos more than obviously didn’t find it hilarious, “What should I think, you're visiting a police officer rather than your firehouse gang in the middle of the night in this shape, unable to talk to me and desperately seeking physical contact to someone you know…”  
“Wouldn’t I try to avoid all contact?”, another reaction he wouldn’t be able to explain later on: Unable to have one clear thought a minute ago and now finding himself in the middle of a first responder conversation…

“That’s the other option of course”, Carlos sounded relieved over that award change of topic and said as much without hesitation: “It’s good to have you back, TK, and not collapsing!”  
  
“I told you I didn’t touch anything, Carlos.”, he sighted — everybody was always thinking the worst once knowing about an addiction — only to deflate on that statement: “But I got so damn close to do it!”

“Well, I’m glad you did neither that nor got yourself into some other trouble.”, he melted over the fact how Carlos’ voice sounded as he said that, “But I’m confused. En nombre de Dios, why me?”  
He took a deep breath before answering that question: “You are the only friend I have here besides my dad and the guys I'm working with. I promised him not to tell the team. I promised him that I would be fine!”  
What followed was the first time the tears didn’t run silently in this night and caused Carlos to grab on him even tighter, not caring at all about his shirt getting wet from tears.  
“I promised him I would be fine, Carlos, and here I am: Fragile TK, the reason he kept it a secret from me!”  
“Tu eres fuerte, TK!”, Carlos mumbled reassuringly, “What ever it is, TK, you are not fragile. Everybody needs help some time and I’m glad you came here instead of doing the easy thing!”  
A second time while he was with Carlos this night, he laughed, but this time, it was a different kind of laughter, this time he laughed at Carlos: “Yes, I am fragile, Carlos. I can’t even be there for my dad like he is always for me when he needs me most. I’m running to a dude I barely know and just hooked up with once to cry like a baby when my dad is the one who is fighting his lung cancer like a man, not even complaining about what the towers did to him!”

Yet again, the following moments felt like an eternity without any verbal response from Carlos. Instead, the arm around his shoulders weakened, followed by a series of sharp breaths.  
“I.. I am sorry, Carlos. I didn’t want to imply that you were just a hookup to me. I know I said…”, TK felt the urge to apologize, but got stopped by an incredibly soft hand stroking over his cheek and getting pulled close again, even tighter this time.  
“No, no, no, TK, stop apologizing.”, Carlos stuttered, apparently having a hard time to digest that news.  
“I shouldn’t have bothered you with my family crap!”, TK pressed out.  
“I got you, TK. I got you!”, Carlos simply responded, “Estoy aqui — right here!”  
  


Carlos would indeed sacrifice the rest of his night to listen to what he had to tell, to encourage him and to hold him tight. In the early hours of the morning, when Carlos mentioned his shift coming up closer, he panicked once more and looked at his phone: No missed calls, no massages from his dad.  
“I need to get back and check on him, Carlos. I just left him there alone, without a word and just that piece of paper. He will think the worst when he finds it!”  
Carlos stayed calm: “You told me how tired he was after all. Take a look at the time, TK, it’s super early and you don’t have a shift — I think?”  
He nodded.  
“See: Your father is taking a good night sleep and you should try to sleep as well.”, Carlos continued, “As much as I would love to cuddle you into sleep, TK, I can only offer a ride home right now…”  
“You don’t have to, Carlos!”, he insisted.  
“Oh yes, Tyler Kennedy, I will absolutely drive you home now — handcuffed, if you resist!”, that sounded like Officer Reyes and not like sweet Carlos he had spent the last hours with.  
  


“Thank you, man!”, he agreed, not interested in being handcuffed again, “You are a great friend!”  
“Just doing what anyone would do, TK.”, Carlos tried to play it down, apparently considering that his visitor wasn’t ready to let somebody really close again this soon and not wanting to make him uncomfortable.  
“No, you did far more than anyone besides dad ever did for me, Carlos. I’m sorry I can’t even say what I feel right now!”, he felt so weak again.  
“Stop that, Tyler!”, Carlos insisted, “I’m glad you came to me and I will be there for you whenever you need me. I don’t care about a relationship or anything, I care about you and what you are ready for.”  
“Then cuddle my into sleep!”, it was a childish demand, but he couldn’t take it back as it slipped out of his mouth.  
“I would if I wouldn’t have to go for a shift soon. And I don’t want to overwhelm you…”, Carlos offered an apology.

“It’s fine. I’ll cuddle with dad!”, he assured him, adding: “Who knows how long I will have him from now on…” in a bitter voice.  
“Stop it, Tyler Kennedy, just stop it. Your dad is very much alive and you two will keep it that way, I know that.”, he didn’t have to wait for another sharp reprimand.  
“You can’t know that, Carlos!”, he sobbed once more.  
“You’re right, I can’t. But I have a pretty good feeling.”, once more, arms wrapped around him, “You have to get that as well!”  
“Well, like this I feel pretty good…”, he admitted and added jokingly: “Can we stay like this until the world just stops being shitty?”  
This time, they both laughed while still holding tight for a little while longer, and for the first time this night, it was a genuine laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not yet sure if I leave this as a One-shot or write a second chapter, but I have no intention of making this a longer story or project.  
> // Well, i now did write the second chapter already in fact... ;)
> 
> Coming from that it's important for me to make one point at the start: I've not been writing this as a "Weak TK" story of sorts, but because I know it's hard to handle such a diagnosis for someone you are close with on your own.  
> There is help luckily - don't hesitate to ask for and take it!
> 
> Stay safe and healthy!


End file.
